France
Trip Report 1999
"Go to France" he said . . .
"Go to France" he said . . .
Go to France. That's what my boss told me in early 1999. What? Really? And you will pay for it? I’ll start packing right now . . . Yes, it was real. We represent various hifi equipment brands from France. He thought that it was time for me to acquaint myself with the people behind the products and see the manufacturing facilities. Since my wife accompanying me was a foregone conclusion, he and I negotiated a fair balance of costs and I started planning the trip. We had stretched the year before to buy our house so money was tight and a trip had not been on our radar. And this would be our first trip to Europe together. She had been back to Hungary in the dark days of the mid-70s and I had been on a hifi dealer whirlwind trip of England and Scotland in the early 80s. Aside from that, we had traveled to various parts of the US, the Caribbean and Canada but never to Europe.
Since it was mostly business, I had a schedule to keep. I arranged meetings in Paris, Bures-sur-Yvette (a suburb of Paris) and Saint-Étienne near Lyon. We would fly to CDG, site see and do Paris for a few days, take the TGV to Saint-Étienne, back to Paris for Bures-sur-Yvette, then TGV to the Loire valley for a two night vacation with a rental car and finally TGV back to Paris and fly home from there. A whirlwind tour certainly but the idyll in the Loire would give us a bit of a break. July was the chosen month with arrival in Paris on the 16th.
We were seriously excited. Armed with pocketsful of French Francs, we aimed the taxi driver to our carefully chosen moderately priced hotel in Saint-Germain-des-Prés – Hotel Ferrandi. This was our first experience with the tiniest elevator in the world as well as a double bedded room that just fits a double bed and nothing else. Yes, we had heard that accommodations could be small in Paris but we were thinking NYC small and the Hotel Ferrandi had bettered them. We had to step over luggage to get around the bed. But, we didn't care.
We hit the streets and ended up wandering through the Jardin du Luxembourg looking for a coffee. It is one gorgeous park! Marie de Médicis' stately Palais Luxembourg, with its incredible formal gardens splashed with bright flowers while model sailboats ply the placid waters of the pond in the middle of it all. We sat down in the outdoor tables of the Café Le Rostand, just across the street from the park and had the best coffee of our lives. Café au lait with a huge dollop of rich thick whipped cream. Calling it the best may be a wee bit of an exaggeration in hindsight but at that moment, sitting in that café, we realized where we really were. Paris!
And we did the town. For the next two days, we walked until our legs were blobs of jelly. The incredible Louvre was a main course – both for the treasures it holds inside and the beautiful edifice itself - while the Eiffel Tower and Deux Magots were wonderful sides. From the lightness of d’Orsay to the depths of the dungeons in the Conciergerie with the great one’s tomb in Invalide for dessert. We ate it all up.
We fell head over heels in love with the city. It actually lived up to the hype. History. Architecture. Food. Ambiance. Attitude. It had it all. We were smitten. For us, nothing will ever beat Paris.
Since it was mostly business, I had a schedule to keep. I arranged meetings in Paris, Bures-sur-Yvette (a suburb of Paris) and Saint-Étienne near Lyon. We would fly to CDG, site see and do Paris for a few days, take the TGV to Saint-Étienne, back to Paris for Bures-sur-Yvette, then TGV to the Loire valley for a two night vacation with a rental car and finally TGV back to Paris and fly home from there. A whirlwind tour certainly but the idyll in the Loire would give us a bit of a break. July was the chosen month with arrival in Paris on the 16th.
We were seriously excited. Armed with pocketsful of French Francs, we aimed the taxi driver to our carefully chosen moderately priced hotel in Saint-Germain-des-Prés – Hotel Ferrandi. This was our first experience with the tiniest elevator in the world as well as a double bedded room that just fits a double bed and nothing else. Yes, we had heard that accommodations could be small in Paris but we were thinking NYC small and the Hotel Ferrandi had bettered them. We had to step over luggage to get around the bed. But, we didn't care.
We hit the streets and ended up wandering through the Jardin du Luxembourg looking for a coffee. It is one gorgeous park! Marie de Médicis' stately Palais Luxembourg, with its incredible formal gardens splashed with bright flowers while model sailboats ply the placid waters of the pond in the middle of it all. We sat down in the outdoor tables of the Café Le Rostand, just across the street from the park and had the best coffee of our lives. Café au lait with a huge dollop of rich thick whipped cream. Calling it the best may be a wee bit of an exaggeration in hindsight but at that moment, sitting in that café, we realized where we really were. Paris!
And we did the town. For the next two days, we walked until our legs were blobs of jelly. The incredible Louvre was a main course – both for the treasures it holds inside and the beautiful edifice itself - while the Eiffel Tower and Deux Magots were wonderful sides. From the lightness of d’Orsay to the depths of the dungeons in the Conciergerie with the great one’s tomb in Invalide for dessert. We ate it all up.
We fell head over heels in love with the city. It actually lived up to the hype. History. Architecture. Food. Ambiance. Attitude. It had it all. We were smitten. For us, nothing will ever beat Paris.
And speaking of food . . .
To cap off our first full day in Paris, I had decided that we needed to experience some culinary greatness while we were in town. Now remember I said that we were a bit cash poor? Well, this was going to be a serious budget buster but we just had to. Y’know? I booked a table for us at Les Ambassadeurs, which in 1999 was a 2* Michelin restaurant in the Hôtel de Crillon. When we arrived at the hotel, the entrance was fenced and gendarmes were keeping a crowd of people and paparazzi well back from the doors. Why? Madonna was a guest and it seemed that an appearance was imminent as she made her way to dinner somewhere. With the crowd jealously giving us hate stares, we were allowed through the barriers and into the lobby where we were met by a similar but smaller cluster of hotel guests by the elevator. We joined in and were rewarded with a Madonna sighting. She’s pretty short btw.
Anyway . . . the maître’d at Les Ambassadeurs greeted us with a glass of champagne and showed us to our table. Opulent is s a good word for this restaurant - rich royal blue velvet drapes with mirrored and honey marble walls. The his and her menus arrived with a flourish – only the his has prices btw. I whispered to my wife that she would get an appetizer – only - and I would get a main - only. And we would wash it down with a half bottle of Bordeaux. Even with this economizing, the bill was still over $300. We skipped dessert to retire to the lounge for a cigar, where we had a second chance to see Madonna – this time without the hordes of paparazzi as she went out to a club or somewhere with just her bodyguards in tow. We finished the evening with a romantic stroll along the Seine until we drifted into a darkened area where male hookers were lurking. Bubble shattered, we went to back our hotel with a great experience under our belts.
Needless to say, we ate very well throughout our whole trip. I mean it’s France. Even their cheapest café food is miles better than anything that you’ll ever find at any of the anonymous chains that pepper the North American landscape. Have a crêpe from one of the window shops – there was one in the square near the Maubert Métro stop - and tell me that I’m not right. We enjoyed cafés and brasseries everywhere we went and even simple baguettes on the street were an amazing treat. And I must admit here that we stole a baguette from the morning delivery at the Hotel Ferrandi on the morning of our departure. Sorry, but we couldn't resist . . .
To cap off our first full day in Paris, I had decided that we needed to experience some culinary greatness while we were in town. Now remember I said that we were a bit cash poor? Well, this was going to be a serious budget buster but we just had to. Y’know? I booked a table for us at Les Ambassadeurs, which in 1999 was a 2* Michelin restaurant in the Hôtel de Crillon. When we arrived at the hotel, the entrance was fenced and gendarmes were keeping a crowd of people and paparazzi well back from the doors. Why? Madonna was a guest and it seemed that an appearance was imminent as she made her way to dinner somewhere. With the crowd jealously giving us hate stares, we were allowed through the barriers and into the lobby where we were met by a similar but smaller cluster of hotel guests by the elevator. We joined in and were rewarded with a Madonna sighting. She’s pretty short btw.
Anyway . . . the maître’d at Les Ambassadeurs greeted us with a glass of champagne and showed us to our table. Opulent is s a good word for this restaurant - rich royal blue velvet drapes with mirrored and honey marble walls. The his and her menus arrived with a flourish – only the his has prices btw. I whispered to my wife that she would get an appetizer – only - and I would get a main - only. And we would wash it down with a half bottle of Bordeaux. Even with this economizing, the bill was still over $300. We skipped dessert to retire to the lounge for a cigar, where we had a second chance to see Madonna – this time without the hordes of paparazzi as she went out to a club or somewhere with just her bodyguards in tow. We finished the evening with a romantic stroll along the Seine until we drifted into a darkened area where male hookers were lurking. Bubble shattered, we went to back our hotel with a great experience under our belts.
Needless to say, we ate very well throughout our whole trip. I mean it’s France. Even their cheapest café food is miles better than anything that you’ll ever find at any of the anonymous chains that pepper the North American landscape. Have a crêpe from one of the window shops – there was one in the square near the Maubert Métro stop - and tell me that I’m not right. We enjoyed cafés and brasseries everywhere we went and even simple baguettes on the street were an amazing treat. And I must admit here that we stole a baguette from the morning delivery at the Hotel Ferrandi on the morning of our departure. Sorry, but we couldn't resist . . .
After two days of fun and business gamboling around Paris, it was time to head south. We TGV’d from the Gare Lyon – one of four Paris train stations – to Lyon. I make it sound so simple but the reality was quite different. We rushed around the train station waving our passports, panicked and totally confused. We lined up in the wrong line. We got on the wrong train. And we finally had to make a last minute dash for half a mile down a track in the station to get on the RIGHT train – which we breathlessly made just in time.
If you have never been on a TGV or a high speed train, it is a really great way to travel. It is smooth, comfortable and quiet. Really quiet. Trains in general seem to encourage silence but with just a soft monotonous engine sound in the background, you really felt obliged to talk softly. The speed of the TGV trains is really cool as well. You can see the villages in the distance as you drift past them, but trees beside the track are just a blur whizzing by. And btw, the First Class seats were pretty comfy even if the snack car was a bit dismal.
While Saint-Étienne is not a picturesque town, it is nestled in hills west of Lyon, with the odd ancient slagheap thrown in betraying its industrial roots . My meeting was successful although I did stump the three principals of this $25M company as to the purpose of my visit. At lunch with just the five of us, they asked me point blank ‘Why was I there?’ and my answer of ‘Just visiting’ seemed to relieve them all and the rest of the visit was very pleasant. We finished the evening with a casual dinner with the CEO at our hotel.
The next day it was back to Paris where we taxied from Gare Lyon to Gare Montparnasse to catch the RER regional train to our next rendezvous in Bures-sur-Yvette - just southwest of the city.
Ahhh. Our day with Yves and Ariane in Bures-sur-Yvette. It started with lunch at a crêperie in town that specialized in cuisine from his home region - Normandy. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that the andouille he insisted on ordering makes me gag, but I valiantly soldiered through a ‘disgusting’ andouille crêpe, finishing it all. I know, I know, I should have said something but I am the ultimate polite guest at times. After a factory meet and greet - by now late in the afternoon - we drove through a very picturesque village to their home for an aperitif and to swap cars for his vintage hopped-up convertible Super Beetle for a hilarious drive to Versailles, where we had a magical dinner in a pedestrian street in the town. A double WOW here . . . the food, the setting, the company . . . it was another great night. And I swear that they had the world’s best Crème brûlée. Really. It’s not just a travel memory. I have never had one better.
If you have never been on a TGV or a high speed train, it is a really great way to travel. It is smooth, comfortable and quiet. Really quiet. Trains in general seem to encourage silence but with just a soft monotonous engine sound in the background, you really felt obliged to talk softly. The speed of the TGV trains is really cool as well. You can see the villages in the distance as you drift past them, but trees beside the track are just a blur whizzing by. And btw, the First Class seats were pretty comfy even if the snack car was a bit dismal.
While Saint-Étienne is not a picturesque town, it is nestled in hills west of Lyon, with the odd ancient slagheap thrown in betraying its industrial roots . My meeting was successful although I did stump the three principals of this $25M company as to the purpose of my visit. At lunch with just the five of us, they asked me point blank ‘Why was I there?’ and my answer of ‘Just visiting’ seemed to relieve them all and the rest of the visit was very pleasant. We finished the evening with a casual dinner with the CEO at our hotel.
The next day it was back to Paris where we taxied from Gare Lyon to Gare Montparnasse to catch the RER regional train to our next rendezvous in Bures-sur-Yvette - just southwest of the city.
Ahhh. Our day with Yves and Ariane in Bures-sur-Yvette. It started with lunch at a crêperie in town that specialized in cuisine from his home region - Normandy. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that the andouille he insisted on ordering makes me gag, but I valiantly soldiered through a ‘disgusting’ andouille crêpe, finishing it all. I know, I know, I should have said something but I am the ultimate polite guest at times. After a factory meet and greet - by now late in the afternoon - we drove through a very picturesque village to their home for an aperitif and to swap cars for his vintage hopped-up convertible Super Beetle for a hilarious drive to Versailles, where we had a magical dinner in a pedestrian street in the town. A double WOW here . . . the food, the setting, the company . . . it was another great night. And I swear that they had the world’s best Crème brûlée. Really. It’s not just a travel memory. I have never had one better.